


Tainted

by orphan_account



Series: SP7 Tainted-Verse [1]
Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Angel!Sami Jo, HIV/AIDS, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, Spooky Pine 7, Tainted-verse, Werewolf!James, demon!cib, immortal au, necromancer!Jeremy, spooky scary au, vampire!steven, warnings at the beginning of each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Cib can only exist as long as his soul-bound counterpart is alive too, and since Steven is a vampire, he's supposed to live forever, right? Even with this new and deadly disease in him? How will this affect the friends they're making?





	1. May of 1982

**Author's Note:**

> This story is NOT told in chronological order.  
> See chapter titles for the year.  
> Please read End Notes for the dedication.  
> All the "human" characters are the ages we know them to be today (2017) but in 2005. Not sure if I explained that well, but writing timelines out of order is hard y'all.
> 
> If you want more Stories from this universe, checkout the ["Tainted-verse Series"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/854196/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven is sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> this chapter uses period-typical slurs and homophobia.

Cib had never seen Steven like this. So weak, so...fragile. Even though he knew they were immortal, he had never imagined seeing his friend in this condition. But here he was, sitting at Steven’s bedside, watching the vital signs struggle to stay in the “normal” range.

It has started with a cough, then a fever. Cib forced Steven to stay in bed a few days to rest up, but he only got worse. His coughing seemed endless, his fever was unpredictable, and his voice was hoarse at best. Then, this morning, Cib woke up to Steve coughing and convulsing next to him. The vampire turned to him with tears welling in his eyes and barely was able to breathe out the words, “I'm drowning.”

It was risky, a demon taking a vampire to a public hospital. But Steven had lost so much weight and was barely able to walk without help, and Cib was begrudgingly willing to admit that he panicked. He now held onto Steven’s hand as if it were the only way to keep his friend alive, but he was confident in this decision, this had to be the right thing to do.

All that confidence left his body when he saw the doctor walk in with a forcefully expressionless face. Is this what humans felt like when he pulled their souls out of this realm?

The doctor threw the x-rays onto the light thing on the wall, whatever they call it now. The image showed Steve’s chest, his lungs completely white.

“So, what your friend has here is what we call double pneumonia. See all that white cloudy stuff? That's not supposed to be there. We’re catching it so late that I'm afraid there's not much I can do for him.”

Cib’s eyebrow raised, confused. “Aren't there medications for this? Pneumonia isn't new or anything. There has to be some sort of treatment, right? Or at least something to make him comfortable?”

The doctor chuckled, “You're right son, but unfortunately it's not worth wasting on him. The blood tests came back. I'm supposed to wait for him to be awake to give this diagnosis but due to the circumstances…”

“What circumstances?” He held back a growl.

“GRID. Gay-Related Immune Deficiency.”

Cib’s breath hitched in his throat. He hardly knew anything about this disease, other than the whole nation had been terrified of catching it from-

“The CDC is considering calling it “the 4H disease”, “AIDS”, a bunch of shitty names, but frankly, it's the faggot’s disease. How much do you know about it?”

He bit his lip to calm the swelling rage in his chest, blinked back the electric blue eyes he felt trying to reveal through the glamours of his human facade, made sure to memorize this doctor’s name and face, and somehow spoke calmly.

“Just what the news has been saying mostly. Mostly only showing up in queer men, weakens the immune system, and nobody's really sure how it spreads.”

The doctor nodded, “Well, if you don’t mind me not beating around the bush, there’s nothing else this hospital can do for him.”

Cib's eyes narrowed. “You mean, _‘will’_ do for him?”

The doctor met Cib’s cold stare unphased. His eyes told Cib all he needed to know. They weren’t welcome here anymore, and not for being creatures of nightmares.

“Also, you might want to get yourself tested too, Sonny,” he said as he handed Cib the clipboard of discharge paperwork and left the room.

Cib silently damned the man to a stroke-causing blood clot‒- a soul to send down in his name-‒ and began to fill out the paperwork, still struggling to figure out what to do next. Was this as deadly as a silver stake through a vampire’s heart? Fuck if Cib knew, but he knew he had to make sure Steven fought through this, or else they would both be in a new world of suffering.

He squeezed Steven's hand again. “You can’t get rid of me, Suppy. You can’t get rid of me.”

He could swear he felt Steven squeeze back.


	2. October of 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump to 2005, and with new friends come new responsibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> Blood/gore, dismemberment, death

Somehow Steven and Cib made friends. Human friends. Well, kinda. Humans who brushed very closely with the mythical, the “dark arts”, whatever they were calling it nowadays. Oh, and a closeted werewolf, but Cib wasn't going to out the poor guy. All that mattered to Cib was that they didn't mind having a demon and vampire around. Also that they didn't mind his excessive smoking; no matter what spells or tricks he tried to use, nothing seemed able to mask or eliminate the stink people no longer seemed to appreciate. Pfft, mortals. 

Tonight they were all having a sleepover at Parker’s. Jeremy and Aaron (Andy? Andrew? Whatever, that guy) lived there too but  _ technically _ the house was inherited by Parker. Steven and Cib often pretended to hate Parker, but they had privately discussed their admiration for his positivity and kind heart. They preferred Jeremy, since he openly understood what they were more than the average human, Parker included. However, Cib had a soft spot for James, and always hoped that someday the poor guy would feel safe enough to admit to any of them about being a werewolf. Allen(?), well, he was there. Nice enough guy. 

They played a lot of  _ Magic: The Gathering _ . And yes, there were glaring errors in all the game’s creature types, but it was fun to watch Jeremy try to raise an army of the undead only for Steven to take them all out with his overpowered vampires. Parker played an angel deck, which Cib always made sure to take down first with his demons and fiends. Hanging out and playing the nerdy game was essentially a time vortex. The only things keeping time were the  _ American Idol _ audition marathon playing in the background and the number of empty beers overflowing from the trash. 

Before a second game was even fully in swing, Cib noticed James acting weird. He was very jittery, nervous. Everyone seemed to be aware, but no one acknowledged his behavior. That was, until he went to play his  _ Primordial Hydra _ , which Jeremy stopped with a swift  _ Cancel _ . 

James made a guttural growl, tapped all his creature cards to attack, then stood up and walked out. He mumbled something about needing a smoke. Parker eyed Cib nervously.

“No, I did not put a curse on him!”

Parker’s eyes flicked to Jeremy, who answered the unasked question with a snort. 

Sighing Parker looked over, “Steven?”

Steven threw up his arms, exasperated, “I’m just a bloodsucker! I'm not a necromancer or a  _ literal demon! _ ”

“ _ Hey _ !”

Before Steven could apologize to Cib, or Jeremy could rationalize his practices, Parker backed down, “Okay, okay, I'm just going to go check on him.” 

He was out the door before Cib thought to look at the time, at the sky, then he jumped up and followed as fast as his inebriated human form allowed. Behind, he heard Steven complain about messing up the cards, but he didn’t stop to explain himself. If his suspicions were right, James wasn't just about to transform into a werewolf. Resisting transforming for months on end, plus hating yourself for being a werewolf, meant that  _ this _ forced shift was bound to be ugly. Cib had never seen a forced shift, but he had seen the aftermath, and of all the things the demon had done and seen  _ that _ was the most sickening image he could recall. 

By the time he had run outside and made it to the small woods across the street into Hayter Park, he could already see that this wasn't going to be a pretty situation. There was a burning pain growing in his chest. 

“Leave, Parker!” James’ voice was hoarse and strained as he resisted the transformation. 

Parker instead stepped closer, “I'm not going to leave you! You're hurting-”

“I'm a  _ monster! _ ” James’ eyes began to glow yellow, the transformation was about to overtake him. He turned away, still straining to fight it. 

“You're not a monster, James. You're my friend.”

The werewolf snarled and turned to the human. As Cib sprinted to the scene he could tell that James no longer present. He had repressed his transformations for too long, so his form wasn't that of a normal wolf‒ or even a dog for that matter. This thing was standing on hind legs with glowing yellow eyes, and elongated claws and fangs. Even a demon would be taken aback by the sight of the creature… or at least this demon was. 

The terror in Parker’s eyes was visible from where Cib was, but the man still wasn't backing down. Whether that was bravery or stupidity, Cib would never find out. 

 

It all happened so fast. 

 

He was so close to reaching Parker when his body seized up, and he crumpled to the ground, feeling all the soulbond pain he had ignored in his adrenaline fueled sprint. Unable to move, he could only watch as the monstrous form of his dear friend began to rip Parker apart. 

The pain in his chest began to reside as Steven and the others came running to the scene, but Cib knew it was too late. Parker’s ghost was already materializing in the dimension that only Cib could see. He should've expected this, but even so, there was a lump in his throat and he felt his eyes well with tears. 

“Parker. I'm so sorry… I wanted to save you. I'm so sorry Parker. I knew and I didn’t warn you. I’m so sorry. I should've told you; I should've told all of you…”

Parker smiled and shrugged. “You did your best. I'm just thankful I can say a proper goodbye to at least one of you. Tell the others that I love them. Even James.”

Cib nodded as Parker faded away and returned his focus to the physical plane where Jeremy, Andy(?), and Steven were attempting to distract James from Parker’s body. Arthur(?) had thrown himself between Parker and the beast, and Jeremy was wielding a shovel to back him away from his friends. Steven was at James side, attempting to figure out what to do. 

That’s when the claws blindly swung, and Steven’s chest got gouged open. He looked at his bloody hands in horror, unable to move or react in any form.

“Do something!” Jeremy yelled, probably to Steven, but Cib snapped out of his trance and ran towards the beast. He couldn’t think of anything physically that would be useful against James, but he had to have some sort of demon power thing to use, right?

The answer slammed into his head so fast, he was already moving his hands to summon his hellish powers before he realized he was conjuring a high density cloud to form above them all, completely blocking the moonlight. Jeremy swung at James, and since he was weaker without the moon and already transforming into something less terrifying, the werewolf was out cold. 

Everyone was quiet, the only movement in the world seemed to be the guys all trying to catch their breath, and the cloud rapidly dissipating. Jeremy looked to Cib and nodded his appreciation. Anthony(?) looked up from Parker’s body and delivered the news that Cib had already known. Jeremy threw down his shovel and was immediately at Parker’s side.

“We need to carry as much as we can to the basement as fast as we can,” Jeremy instructed. He turned to Cib, “Keep an eye on James. I don’t know how long he’s going to be out, and honestly you probably are the most capable to handle...that.” Cib nodded, and Jeremy he turned to where Steven had been standing, but the vampire was nowhere to be found.

“Of course he decides that  _ now _ is the time he doesn’t want to deal with blood!” Jeremy spit, shaking his head and went to help carry what was left of Parker to the house. 

Cib was left alone with an unconscious James‒ now in a more wolf-like form‒ sprawled out on the ground, so he went over and sat next to him so he wouldn't be alone when he awoke. The relaxing quiet of the night was ironic to Cib, especially considering the pools of blood surrounding them. 

As he got himself comfortable on the ground, he decided that the others were far enough away by this point that it would be safe to address the blood situation. 

“Why were you hiding, Suppy?”

Steven slowly emerged from where he had been hiding in the trees, still holding his bloody chest. Even though his body was already trying to repair the damage, it was still a mortal wound. Their eyes met with understanding, and Cib motioned for Steven to join him.

The vampire took a defensive step back, “I don’t want to spread it.”

“Glisten, as long as you’re alive, I’m here, dude‒ you  _ know  _ I can always get a vessel or something if I need to. Now come here so I can heal you, little boy.”

Steven sighed and walked over. Cib noticed the red around red eyes and puffy cheeks, but didn’t comment. He simply let the other settle down next to him, and then put an arm around his shoulder. 

While Cib began to channel his energy into a healing spell, Steven began to ramble about all the things Cib already had known to trouble him. 

“I still don’t know how it’s spread‒ can sweat do it? Blood to skin contact? I don’t know! And I know it sucks having it, and  _ I’m _ immortal. The others would be thoroughly fucked if they got it. Hell, I don’t know if I could live with myself if I had to watch them wither away…”

Cib let him talk. He let him heal. And when the wolf next to them awoke, they spoke no more on the subject, and instead tried to keep their furry friend distracted from the pools of blood he had caused.


	3. June of 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump back to the 70's.  
> Cib and Steven go clubbin' huntin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: minor character death, heavily implied consensual sex, smoking

Steven had taken them to a sleazy bar in San Francisco. The drinks were cheap, and the people were careless because they had nothing to lose. Then again, wasn’t that why they all were here?

Cib suspected that wasn't the only reason Steven liked hunting meals at the gay bars and clubs. This easily could be a real date if they wanted it to be. The atmosphere was always casual and simply walking in you could hear the patrons breathe a little easier. It was okay to hold hands and dance together here. It was okay to exist. No one here questioned why Cib was always so close the vampire. No one needed to hide here.

Also cheap drinks meant patrons drank a lot, and with the demon and vampire’s charms, it was easy to convince someone to want alone time with them away from the crowd and music.

However, tonight was different. Steven had charmed a recovering heroin addict, a younger man who recently moved to the area to be closer to his closeted boyfriend. They had broken up two nights ago, so he was here to drink the pain away and maybe find some sort of rebound experience. He had approached Steven at the bar while ordering his first drink. Cib thought something was a bit off about him, but nothing malicious or dangerous as far as he could tell. A few drinks later, the two helped their prey stumble out of the bar and to the small apartment they had claimed around the corner.

The man was very touchy, affectionate, and insistent, and the demon was never one to refuse someone who wholeheartedly was consenting (and he could tell, seeing souls and all). Steven was in a good mood tonight too, and besides, sometimes it's fun to play with your food.

After all three were exhausted and laying in bed, the stranger between them, Steven smiled and spoke, “Has anyone told you that you taste wonderful?”

The man was happily confused for a moment as Steven rolled on top of him and bit his neck. Cib closed his eyes and took a long drag from his cigarette. He oddly enjoyed the peace of these moments, a body next to him being drained of life as the other fills with a fresh new energy.

Tonight was different though. As Steven finished up and pushed the lifeless body off the bed, his face was scrunched as if he had a bad aftertaste in his mouth. Cib lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

“Taste was a little off. Like it was tainted with something...yuckie.” He moved closer to Cib and leaned on his chest.

Cib shrugged, “Probably some residual heroine. What do we do with the body this time?”

Steven groaned and rolled off of him. “Can't you just make it disappear again?”

“Listen, glisten. That was one time. I'm not going to spoil you like that every time we're away from the wilderness.”

“You can't convince me to go back to Canada.”

“Oh come on, it wasn't _that_ cold.”

Steven jokingly glared at him. “Like you even feel temperature.”

“Oh look at me, I’m an immortal creature who doesn’t have to possess bodies to exist in the physical realm and it’s inconvenient to me,” mocked Cib.

“That doesn’t even sound like me, idiot.”

“I’m not the one who summoned a demon, idiot.”

“I’m not the one who...wait…shit.”

Cib chuckled and said, “Yeah. Can’t blame me for any of this.”

Steven rolled to lean on Cib, their faces inches apart. “I can blame you for being a good kisser,” he smiled. Cib didn’t argue that, and instead closed the gap between their lips.

If it weren’t for the dead body on the floor, this would almost be romantic.


	4. October of 1901

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further back in time.  
> Cib acknowledges his feelings for Steven, even though it might kill him. But somehow, this demon might just have a guardian angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that the spelling of "Stephen" that Suptic uses wasn't commonly used until the mid-50's, but look, he's a vampire. He's going to do whatever he wants.

A downside of living on the physical plane nowadays was the stench. For years it had been pleasant; but now, it was heavy with burnt coal and tinted with the iron and salty flavors of blood and sweat, no matter how far from the industrial epicenter as they went. Everything still felt grimy and coarse. 

_ “Well, except for Steven,” _ Cib thought fondly, as the vampire readjusted himself to better fit against Cib, who, admittedly, was already hogging the covers. To be fair, as soon as Steven gets comfortable he always tugs them over himself, so really this is just preparing for the inevitable. 

Even thinking about the blanket situation, Cib couldn't help but smile and feel something warm and pleasant flourish in his chest. 

No matter where the two wandered, whatever petty crimes they committed, or cons they played, at the end of the night they were always there to keep each other warm. To feel safe… which is ironic considering how dangerous they are. 

What  _ do _ they have to fear? Centuries of being soul bound had jaded both to the sneers of humans, the slurs, and the persecution. So far, nothing had killed Steven, therefore nothing could kill Cib.

_ “Except that one thing…”  _ a voice in the back of his head sneered. Cib shuddered at the thought, and that warm feeling grew cold and heavy.

As a soul becomes a demon, there's one thing pounded into your head. Your one true inner weakness. Love.

_ “If you succumb to that vile  _ human _ emotion, you're no longer a demon, and that soul you sold lifetimes ago will be consumed - just as it should've in the first place!” _

Still, even though the tortuous training that twists and turns souls into demons, Cib could still faintly remember what he sold his soul for. Well rather,  _ who _ he sold his soul for.

A girl. A girl he was in love with. Soft grey eyes, and long curls that fell down her back. A smile that could challenge any storm, and wit sharper than a blade. 

A girl who was sick. Very sick. And in a lot of pain.

Cib hated watching her suffer. She didn't deserve it, but nothing was working and the doctor had given up. 

So he did the only thing he could.

He sold his soul in exchange for her health. 

She had cried when she learned what her love had done, but the deal had already been made. 

Cib cried too as they shared one last kiss, and then he screamed in agony as he was torn from the physical plane, dragged down to Hell. 

He hadn't thought of her in centuries, he realized. Could he even recall her name? Had he ever wondered if she lived a full and healthy life? Did she ever miss him? Or even remembered him? 

The blanket was tugged off of Cib’s shoulder and he snapped back to the present. He looked over at Steven. So peacefully asleep. Just as soft as the girl Cib loved, but in different ways. Just as witty and wonderful, but in his own special way. 

The thought of both of them filled his heart with that warm feeling. That forbidden warm feeling.

It was too late to go back, and Cib knew it. He had been avoiding this for far too long, especially knowing that Steven quietly felt the same. Reading minds and all. 

Cib felt a pang of guilt as he slid out of bed and walked over to the writing desk. He was thankful they had been able to swindle their way into such a luxury hotel tonight, the  _ Hotel de Coronado _ . At least he got to be somewhere beautiful for this. 

He pulled out a pen and carefully began to write. It was something he and Steven had spent years learning and practicing, and yet Cib still struggled to avoid smearing ink all over the page. 

Two hours passed, and with tears in his eyes Cib signed the four page letter. If he still had a soul, he was holding it in these pages. 

He could feel the crumbling dread already eat at him from his written confession. Before he could disappear forever, he tucked the pages under Stevens pillow, then carefully tucked the blanket in around him. After a final gaze at that beautiful face, he turned and walked out to the balcony, deciding to spend his last moments of existence with a good cigar and an ocean view. 

His chest felt like it was being ripped out to be pulled down below.  _ “This is it,”  _ he thought as another wave of otherworldly pain crashed over him, causing him to fall to his knees.  _ “This is the end. Was it all worth it?”  _

He abruptly felt a surprising tenacity in his chest, which forced him to fight the pain and speak out with pride, “I'd rather never have existed than to not know Steven Suptic and Sami Jo!” 

And then there was light. Bright white light. A blinding force that could only be from the spiritual dimension. Cib knew this was it. This was his final momen-

“Sami Jo?”

He staggered to his feet, and shook his head. He had to be imagining this. It must be a sick joke. 

There she stood, dressed in white robes with blue stitching in the hems. Her eyes just as soft and kind, her smile just as bright. Behind her were two large wings made out of pure light. 

She opened her mouth with a smile and a laugh, “I thought you’d be confused.”

He took a step towards her, arms outstretched, but then he paused. “Can...can I touch you?”

She ran forward and jumped to embrace him, wrapping her legs around his hips, holding him so close. So close, like nothing he had felt in such a long time. 

“Thank you.” She was crying as she held him, “You sacrificed so much, my love. I've been watching. You're still the man I knew and love.”

Cib took a moment, a small step back, and through watery eyes he studied her face. Tears began to fall, “I’m so sorry. I'm so sorry Sami Jo … I'm so sorry…,” he fell back down to his knees, the true weight of the countless evil deeds he had performed over countless years finally landing on him. She had seen it all. How could she even pretend to still care about such a vile creature?

She lifted his head as she leaned down to his level and smiled that kind smile as her hair bounced around her shoulders. “Your heart is still good, your love is still pure when it surfaces. It's okay to love him. Just as it was for you to love me.”

“I...I can't though,” he said, gazing into her eyes like the first moment he had seen them. “Demons aren't allowed to love …”

“I know,” she leaned in and kissed him, putting her hand to his heart. He felt a warm sensation, as if he had been infused with the same light of her wings as he heard her softly mumble, “But this demon can.”

When they broke apart, Cib opened his eyes, and was grateful that she was still there. Not a fantasy. Not a fever dream or sick prank for demons about to be destroyed. He could simply look at her for eternity. 

“I have to go, but Cib…” Sami Jo made sure Cib looked at her specifically this time, a last look at his first ever love, “Don't be afraid to feel anymore. I won't let them take you.” Cib pulled her into another hug. “Angels have more power than demons, you know.” 

He chuckled, and understood her silent promise, “You were always the more powerful one on our relationship.”

She winked at him, kissed him again, and began to ascend. Cib could almost swear that he heard her say, “You have a guardian angel, you dingus,” but he was probably imagining that.

The ethereal light faded quickly and Cib was left on the balcony, cigar still in hand. Dawn was teasing on the horizon. And he was on the physical plane.  _ Alive. _

He took a deep sigh of relief, only to hear sobbing from inside. 

Cib hurried in, only to see Steven, crying harder than Cib had ever thought he was capable of. He was holding the four page confessional Cib had written, now nothing more than blurred ink on a page from his tears. 

_ “Nothing can ever be as heartbreaking as this moment,” _ Cib thought.

The demon silently made his way to Steven, and laid his arm around him in reassurance. His love looked up and those tears of despair turned to tear of overwhelming joy as they locked together in an embrace. Cib pulled back as Steven began to speak. 

“How are you still here?” He managed to choke out, leaning back into Cib. “You said you were going to be destroyed for admit-” 

“A dear friend stopped it from happening. She said that she’s going to protect us.”

Steven let out a breath he had been holding for far too long, and curled closer into Cib, his voice still choked up. “I was so scared I was going to lose you…”

Cib kissed the top of his head and held him tighter, “You know you can't get rid of me, Suppy.” 


	5. August of 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost a century later.  
> If you can avoid pissing off people in the Bible Belt, do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: homophobic slurs, spontaneous combustion, minor gore

“I still can't believe you made that guy start burning from his eyes, good God.” Steve mumbled, not quite willing to admit that he was done ignoring Cib. Probably why he used the g-word too, but Cib knew better than to correct him even though he felt the sting all through his vessel’s bones.

Steven was mad, yeah. And for good reason; Cib using his demonic powers isn't exactly the best way for them to “lay low.” Cib understood this, but he did not regret his actions. Not one bit. 

Neither were big fans of traveling through the Bible Belt for obvious reasons, but being wanted in most of the country didn't give them many options to lay low. Sure, Cib could find a new vessel, maybe conjure up some disguise for Steven, but he tried to avoid using his demonic powers unless absolutely necessary. Mostly because his boss probably wouldn't get on his case as much for being soulbound to an immortal if he wasn't constantly using the energy from down there. 

And that probably added to why steven was upset. 

Not even twenty minutes ago, the two had been at some shitty bar in Louisiana hoping to find someone Steven could suck off (in the vampire way). 

It wasn’t the worst bar they’d been to. It was decently sized and fairly busy. Sure, it had ashtrays that needed to be emptied three weeks ago, and the ice machine probably had its own ecosystem, but it wasn’t too bad.

Up on the TV the news was airing: apparently the medic who helped the Wyoming hate crime victim last year had finally gotten her test results back, and declared officially HIV negative. Just the mention of either part of the illness made Steven slump his shoulders and look away. Cib was about to console him when a coarse and hateful voice ripped through the bar noise. 

“Bitch should've gotten it for helping a flaming faggot!”

Many of the bar patrons muttered agreement.

Cib saw all the color drain from Steven’s complexion. He saw the hairs on his arms stand on end. The utter terror in his eyes. A bolt of rage shot through Cib, and he felt the neon blue light of his eyes try to fight past the glamour he kept on.

As calmly as he could muster, Cib turned to face the patron and asked, in his most intellectual voice, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s so wrong with ‘ faggots ’?”

The man laughed. It was a deep, ugly laugh from the pit of his soul. “What’s not wrong with them? Fuckin’ unnatural miscreants.”

Cib scoffed. The man wasn't wrong;  _ unnatural _ , pfft.

“You're one of them  fags too?” 

“Your favorite unnatural miscreants of nightmares.” He smiled.

Cib felt Steven’s instinctual terror behind him; his need to bolt out of the bar. Maybe out of the country too. Normally, Cib would factor that into his reaction to these types of situations, but tonight wasn't normal. He was ready to prove a point.

“You and your fucking  twink need to get the fuck out of-”

“I think,” Cib dropped cash on the counter, “that's a wonderful idea.” He and Steven started to walk out. 

They didn't make it far when the drunk patron decided to shout, “I can’t wait for the day God’s wrath sends all you  fags to Hell once and for all!”

The room went silent.

So much in that statement infuriated Cib. The sharp pain he felt in his chest when the G-word was uttered. The fact that this man thought he was above Hell. But mostly, it was the hate that pushed the demon beyond his own self control.

“Hell ain’t that bad,” He said quietly, turning to face the man. With a snap of his fingers the glamour that hid his horns and dimmed his glowing eyes was revoked. The man stepped back, eyes wide, and Cib leaned in, “Unless you're a hateful soul, which I have an inkling you are… ”

When the man tried to talk, Cib muted his voice with a simple wave of his hand. “The big fella isn't too fond of hate either. In fact, he gives my kind full forgiveness for removing perpetrators of hate.”

“Cib...Cib please. Let's just g-”

With dramatic flair Cib threw his arms up and directed a cone of energy towards the man. The man’s eyes burst into flames, causing him to crumple to the ground in pain, before combusting into more flames. 

 

The low gas light flicked on. Steven sighed and pulled into the next gas station they passed. As he got out of the car, something small hit his neck, and he fell to the ground, rather pathetically. 

Cib immediately was undoing his seatbelt (of course the one time he actually wears it...) and climbing over the center console to reach Steven, but someone opened the door behind him, and he felt a searing pain on his skin. Then–

 

Cib isn't sure what happened. But what he remembered next was waking up, still feeling the burning pain on his wrists and ankles. His head hurt, and when he looked around he knew he was in trouble. 

He was chained to a chair. A chair that was  _ bolted  _ to the floor, surrounded by candles. It was hard to focus on surveying the room with the iron shackles pressing on his skin. Whoever was behind this really had done their research, which was a terrifying prospect in itself.

_ Where’s Steven!? _

He wasn't feeling any soulbond related pain, just the burning iron against–

_ So he's close. _

He tried reaching out telepathically, but there was no answer. 

Even though he would never admit it, fear consumed Cib. He tried to break free of the bonds holding him down, but they wouldn't do anything but dig deeper into his wrists. With a closer look, Cib realized that the iron was covered in religious symbols from various cultures. 

This was bad. 

This was very bad. 

If they had done all of this correctly, it was a surprise that they didn't have him in a dem–

_ Shit. _

Cib looked across the floor. He was in a demon trap. A well made one at that. Drawn in charcoal with fine precision… but it's hard to admire the craftsmanship of your own demise.

Centuries of doing everything in his power to not go back to Hell, and he gets sent back in the most undignified, unacceptable way. Centuries of avoiding the ugly and dirty work he was damned to, only to be thrown back to the evil he wanted to escape. The bosses were going to be pissed. He probably would have to go through more “training” to “fix” him. 

What would happen to Steven? They're soulbound. It's part of the demonic contract they had. Would Steven be ripped to Hell with him? Would either of them be expelled into oblivion?

The thought of not being at Steven’s side ran chills up his back.  _ Where is he? _

Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and two younger men pushed Steven through the door and towards the corner of the room. He immediately collapsed to his knees with a groan, unable to even hold his head up. Cib could smell the vervain almost instantly, and he just hoped that their captors hadn't given the vampire a lethal dose. He was in handcuffs, and from the way the skin around them was glowing, they were probably silver. Cuts and bruises covered his face, and his torn open button down hung pathetically on his frame, revealing various symbols and slurs carved into his torso.

Cib frantically fought against his restraints, but to no avail. He was trying to reach Steven telepathically, but the vampire was too far from consciousness to answer. Worry flooded through Cib, and he couldn't hide it on his face. 

He turned and faced their captors, who he then realized had been witnesses to the “bar fight”, and mustered up his most demonic voice. _ “You dare to attack my lovemm- summoner?” _

The older of the two men smirked and held his hand out to the other, who handed over what looked to be a Bible. 

“Before we damn you back to Hell, Demon, what made you decide to posses this poor man and make him sin?”

Cib made sure to put on a sickening sly smile on his face, and filled his dramatic pause with a laugh. _ “I do nothing this vessel would object to.”  _

The man was unimpressed with that answer, but didn't press the matter. “What about that  faggot ?” He said, pointing to Steven.

Cib held back a snarl, but before he could respond, the man had begun reciting the first part of an exorcism– the part that forces dark spirits out of their vessels. 

Sure, soulbound pains hurt, but being pulled out of a body was its’ own other world of hurt; best described as your limbs being ripped off, but it's everything all at once. But even that didn't explain just how agonizing the pain is, especially when there's no soul in the body to force Cib out. 

Steven must've regained consciousness  because Cib could faintly hear his loud thoughts of protest that couldn't be vocalized. However, they were quickly drained out by his own screams of agony. Cib couldn't help it, no one could. Well, the Devil himself probably could, but he’d never get himself stuck in an exorcism, now would he?

It felt like hours of the chant failing to fully force him out, of the vessel sucking him back in, and the confused humans trying again with more gusto. Cib couldn't explain to them that the vessel’s original owner no longer existed on this plane. He couldn't tell them that they should just skip to part two. He could only hear Steven’s and his own screams of agony. He could only feel pain.

And then. It stopped. 


	6. 1723, Prussia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Way back in time, a demon met a vampire and saw an opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: blood, possession, cannibalism(?)

It’s not common, but when someone is desperate enough, they can summon a demon with mere thoughts and words. It’s not common, but not impossible. It’s not common, but when Cib hears this desperate plea for help, a hopeless and broken soul ready to give  _ anything _ , he can’t help himself but answer the call.

He was excited to finally go on his first mission as a mid-level demon. With a recent ( tentative) promotion, he had a bit more flexibility in his powers, and he was ready to try out his telepathy. 

As he materialized on the human plane of existence, he immediately noticed that he was pulled into a dungeon of some sort. Damp, cold, and dark; thank goodness he didn’t have the shitty eyesight humans lived with. On the wall he saw a man-‒ no, a vampire-‒ chained to the wall. This man was the one who had summoned him. Somehow. 

Pitiful thing, looked so weak, barely able to keep his eyes open enough to register that someone had joined his solitude. Broken, almost. But, if this vamp had the tenacity to summon a demon, then he certainly wasn’t a broken soul yet. Cib could still make a deal; and really, isn’t that all that matters?

“I need to feed, I need to get out, I need to, I need to, I need-” Ah, so this was a feral vamp. Only able to think about sinking those fangs into some warm blood. Too bad Cib couldn’t speak aloud too well in this hazy form, but maybe he could telepathically communicate?

“ _ You summoned me. I am Cibothy, I _ ‒”

“Get me out of here!” the vampire interrupted aloud, “I’ll do anything! Just get me  _ out! _ ”

“ _ You realize that you’re saying this to a demon? _ ”

The vampire grimaced, then spoke, “Fuck it! I don’t want this life, I don’t want to be a monster, but I don’t want to suffer.  _ Anything. _ Please. Do anything.”

If Cib had been in a physical form he would’ve shrugged, but instead he merely spun out and slid his hazy form through the bars in the cell door window. He could hear the vampire screaming for him to come back and fighting the chains holding him back. Cib didn’t feel bad for leaving him. Not in the slightest. He wasn’t abandoning the guy.

As he located a guard, he realized something. If he helped this vampire, and if he kept him safe, he could live forever. He would never have to return to Hell, never lose his powers, and, most importantly, he would be able to  _ live _ . The times he possessed people on Earth he always enjoyed simply existing. He liked having a physical form in this world. Everything was like a heightened experience. Colors brighter, scents stronger, touches...touchier? Oh, whatever. He entered this guard, taking control of the vessel, and smiled. This might be the best deal he ever gets to make.

Walking back to his summoner’s cell, he noticed that, even though there were many cells down here, only a handful were occupied. They were all spread apart from each other, and all chained or bound in some way to the wall. This must be where this kingdom throws all of their sloppy vampires. Classy.

After trying almost every silver key in the lock, Cib was finally able to enter the cell. The vampire weakly snarled as he closed the cell door behind him. 

“I’ll keep this short. I’m Cib, I’m a demon. When I let you out I will leave this body and you can just eat it, okay?”

The vamp licked his chops, desperate to feed. Only the silver shackles holding him back.

“Once you eat, I’m at your service. I scratch your ass, you scratch mine. Deal?”

The vampire was hardly listening, but he was still eager to agree, which was just what the demon wanted.  


Cib made sure the cell door behind him was slightly ajar, then quickly released the feral vamp.

The vessel was already being knocked to the ground as Cib escaped back into his smoky form. He noticed the burns and bruises on the vamps wrists- that had to hurt. However, it seemed that with the silver removed and blood to suck, the vampire was already regaining energy and strength. 

A few minutes passed, and Cib’s new best friend stood up, satisfied with his meal. He stuck out a hand, “Thank you. I’m Steven Suptic. What do I need to do to pay you back?”

Cib chuckled and put his arm around Steven, leading him out of this hell-hole, “Don’t worry ‘bout that. I’m always gonna be by your side now. Can’t get rid of me Suppy.” 

****

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Benton, who unfortunately passed away. We spent many summers working together, counseling children's theatre summer camps, raising money for Broadway Cares: Equity Fights AIDS, and even more years as friends.  
> I have no clue if Benton even knew about SP7, but I was inspired by a conversation we both probably forgot about ("I wonder how AIDS affects the Vampiric community?"), and so I decided to write this.  
> Benton, I'm sorry I lost touch. I'm sorry our last interaction was me sending you a snap of a dead rat my cat found. I'm so sorry I couldn't be by your side as you fought cancer. I wish I had known you were fighting before your passing. I already miss you, Benter. Thank you for teaching me how to face difficulty with optimism, and for showing me how much more enjoyable life is with a smile. You are already dearly missed, but I hope that you are comfortable wherever you are now.  
> <3 AAT  
> P.S.  
> My deepest apologies to the Sugar Pine 7 crew (specifically Steven and Cib) if this makes any of you uncomfortable. Feel free to contact me if you want this fic to be removed.
> 
> A Special Thanks to the following people for helping me make this possible: Woozlebucket, Hanni, Marshmallowsweetheart, death-of-romeo, haywoodyablowme, B.A., and ShelbyMarie.


End file.
